


That Love-Light Glow

by sunnivaixchel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Bittersweet Ending, Confusion, Desperation, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), John-Lennon-lookin-ass Crowley, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Miscommunication, More Hurt Than Comfort, Mutually Unrequited, References to Addiction, Rejection, grovelling (not the fun kind), love light, mild addict behavior, mind control (sort of), pornstache foreshadowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnivaixchel/pseuds/sunnivaixchel
Summary: Having all four Archangels burst into his shop in the evening was terrifying. Having them start talking about Crowley was even more terrifying. Having them bring out photographs of him and Crowley together was a level of terrifying previously unknown to sentient beings. Then the Archangels had started talking about how obvious it was that he was desperately in love with Crowley, and he’d panicked a bit. Was it really? He’d been head over heels since Crowley had pressed that bag of books into his hand, maybe longer. Was it obvious enough that even Archangels could see it? And if Archangels could see it, could Crowley see it? Was he aware of Aziraphale’s pathetic, pining feelings?The year is 1972. Heaven has figured out that Aziraphale is head over heels for the Adversary. They decide to do something about it. Their solution is not one that anyone was expecting.(based on a kinkmeme prompt)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 153





	That Love-Light Glow

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, back again with another kinkmeme fill. This kinkmeme is keeping me writing. This is probably the longest thing I've ever finished, so I'm pleased about that. This is not nearly as polished as I'd like, but I don't really have a beta and this is a bit long for me to reread and reread and reread until I'm sick of it and I wanted to go ahead and get this up, so apologies for any mistakes.

Crowley was terrified at first. Confused. Angry. Scared. So many emotions.

It was June 1972. Heaven grabbed him off the street while he’d been staring at a pair of bell-bottoms in a shopfront. He screamed and fought, but none of the humans around him heard, not that it would have helped if they had. They took him up, and the terror and exhilaration of seeing Heaven again were so overwhelming that for a few moments he almost forgot to be scared for himself. Heaven was a lot colder and emptier than he remembered, but maybe that was just this part.

They started talking about Aziraphale, and Crowley quickly denied knowing anything about him other than that he was the Enemy. They laughed at him and pulled out glossy, high-resolution photos of him and Aziraphale meeting up throughout the ages. Crowley then began begging them not to punish Aziraphale, saying that he’d corrupted Aziraphale, that he’d forced Aziraphale to do it, that it wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault at all. They continued laughing, mocking him. Gabriel was at the head of them. Crowley remembered Gabriel. He never liked the bastard, even before. Working under him in the creation of the cosmos had been hellish before Hell even existed.

“Aziraphale’s not in trouble. We already knew this was your fault. Luckily, you’re going to get the chance to make it up to him,” Gabriel’s eyes and his smile were too bright, too handsome, too unearthly.

After that, they did something to him. They mocked him, telling him that they were going to fill him with so much light that he wouldn’t even know who he was, that there would be nothing left of him. Crowley screamed and begged.

“You’re supposed to be the merciful ones! You’re supposed to be the merciful ones!” he screamed, and they continued laughing.

The first jolt of light or whatever they were putting in him was genuinely painful, mostly because there hadn’t been any light in him in millennia. Crowley screamed and fought, tears in his eyes. The second jolt hurt less and spread warmth through his whole body, into his fingers and toes. The third jolt reduced his yelling and thrashing to trembling and whimpering. The fourth jolt quieted him completely.

He expected something to change drastically inside of him, but each jolt only made him feel sleepy and warm. The gaping hole inside him was being filled and it felt wonderful. After a few minutes of jolt after jolt of what had to be that heavenly brand of love, Crowley hung limp in his restraints, eyes closed, smiling. There were voices nearby, but they seemed muted. Crowley was thinking about Aziraphale. This, in and of itself, was by no means unusual. The only really unusual thing was that whenever his mind would start to drift away from Aziraphale, the jolts of love guided his mind back to Aziraphale as if he were a little child who had wandered from the playground, although he was only vaguely aware of this. After a little while, it didn’t even occur to Crowley to think about something other than Aziraphale. The growing warmth in his chest had begun to ache, but Crowley knew that ache well. That was love. That was the ache in his chest that he felt when he looked at Aziraphale, that warmth that he always felt was going to burst out of him when Aziraphale gave him that perfect smile. Crowley sighed happily, smile widening. He heard more laughter from nearby, but he barely noticed. _Aziraphale. Aziraphale. Aziraphale_.

Eventually, the ache was borderline painful, and he had a vague idea of what the angels had meant when they’d said the light would fill him so completely that there would be nothing left. His mind was able to leave Aziraphale just long enough to think that this love for Aziraphale would have likely smothered his sense of self completely had he not already been filled with love for Aziraphale. After that, his mind obediently returned to Aziraphale, replaying every stolen moment over the millennia since the Garden in his mind, basking in the memory of Aziraphale’s presence.

Someone slapped him, and he barely noticed the pain, cracking his eyes open. Gabriel was standing above him, expression one of disgust laced with vague amusement. Crowley smiled hazily. Did Gabriel know how amazing Aziraphale was and how much Crowley loved him? Probably. Angels knew all about love, and it was impossible not to know how perfect and beautiful and wonderful and amazing Aziraphale was.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to fit any more light. It’s overflowing at this point,” Gabriel was saying to someone else. He looked back at Crowley, and his lip curled, “You awake, demon?” he asked. Crowley hummed, still smiling. Someone fit something around his neck. It was soft fabric and fit tight around his throat. Felt nice. Felt like a collar. Crowley thought about Aziraphale putting a collar on him and almost drooled, “Don’t look so pleased with yourself. This is your fault,” Gabriel’s eyes were ice-cold, despite his smile, “You’re the one who did this to Aziraphale.” It took Crowley a few seconds to process that, then his smile faded. He’d hurt Aziraphale? “Yeah. It’s your fault. An angel like Aziraphale would never have fallen in love with a filthy demon like you without some kind of demonic corruption being involved.” Crowley still wasn’t thinking clearly, and that statement took him a bit to parse. Slowly, his face lit up again.

“Love?” he croaked, not daring to hope, and the love inside him felt like it was going to explode out of him. He couldn’t tell if it was the love they’d put in him or the love that had already been there, but he was too distracted by the idea of Aziraphale loving him to analyze it. Gabriel snorted.

“Like you didn’t know. We know what you did. You saw the sad, lonely little angel stationed alone on Earth, and saw easy prey. But now you’re actually going to be useful for the first time since Creation. You made the angel fall in love with you, so now you’re going to give him exactly what he wants,” there was a lot to unpack from that, but the words ‘give him exactly what he wants’ sent a thrill of pleasure and excitement through Crowley that wiped all other thoughts away. Yes! Yes! Whatever Aziraphale wanted! Whatever made Aziraphale happy! “Yeah, you want that, don’t you? You wanna do whatever Aziraphale tells you, right?” Gabriel’s voice turned mocking, and Crowley beamed.

“Yeah! Yeah!” he was practically bouncing like an excited puppy, still down on his knees. The idea of pleasing Aziraphale was making him giddy. That, also, wasn’t an entirely new phenomenon for him, but the giddiness that shot through him when Aziraphale beamed at him and he knew he’d pleased the angel usually came with embarrassment and consternation and was quickly hidden to the best of his ability. Now, Crowley had no control, no pride, no embarrassment, no fear, nothing. Apparently, Aziraphale loved him back! The very thought was dizzying, “Where is he? Can I see him? Can I see him?” Crowley asked excitedly, no thought in his mind that he was in the presence of angels and should be wary of them. The only thought in his mind was Aziraphale. Two angels grabbed him under the arms and dragged him to his feet. He didn’t even look at them, “Is he here? Can I see him?” Crowley’s entire body was tingling with pleasure and excitement. His angel! His beautiful angel! He wanted to see him!

“No, he’s Earthside, in his little bookshop. We’ll-” Gabriel started, but as soon as Crowley heard the word ‘bookshop’, he jerked away from the angels holding him and started blindly in a random direction, mindlessly eager to get to Aziraphale as soon as possible. Gabriel grabbed him by the back of his jacket, “Slow down there, cowboy. You’re not going anywhere with that suppressor around your neck. We’ll take you to him. We need to tell him what a huge favor we’re doing him.” Crowley was grabbed by the arms again. He became vaguely aware that he couldn’t feel any connection to either Hell or his own magical abilities, but he wasn’t particularly worried about either. He was going to see _Aziraphale_ . “Come on. I’m sure he’ll be _very_ happy to see us once he realizes we have you as a present for him,” Gabriel turned his back, and Crowley was being led after him. Crowley’s smile faltered.

‘ _Too fast for me, too fast for me, too fast for me, too fast for me,_ ’ Aziraphale’s voice echoed in Crowley’s mind, on a loop, the way it had for the last five years. Would Aziraphale be happy to see him? He’d said that Crowley...

‘ _They said he loves you!_ ’ his brain reminded him, and he perked up again, barely noticing the white, barren rooms he was being led through. Aziraphale apparently loved him, so the ‘too fast’ thing must have just been something Crowley had done wrong. He’d fix it, though. He wouldn’t do anything else wrong ever again. He’d only do things that made Aziraphale happy, that made Aziraphale smile. He’d do everything Aziraphale told him to do. Crowley’s own smile turned sappy. Aziraphale loved him! Aziraphale loved him! What could be more amazing?

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was late evening. The sun had set and no one on the busy streets of SoHo noticed the man being forcibly led along by a group of well-dressed individuals. Crowley caught glimpses of himself in the passing shopfronts. He hadn’t been allowed a chance to primp, so he basically looked exactly the way he had when they’d grabbed him, but a little mussed. He was long overdue for a change. His current look was out. The Beatles were a bit out, or at least their look was. There were entirely new fashions every decade now, which was fun. Crowley needed something for the new age of disco. He had a feeling that Hell was really going to like disco, so he needed to make sure his new look was good. He was thinking about a mustache. He was seeing a lot of those around these days. He might look good in a chevron. Maybe something bigger. Some bellbottoms. Shag hairstyle. _Yeah_. That sounded good, sounded groovy. Did Aziraphale like mustaches? Crowley didn’t think he’d mind a new haircut and some bellbottoms on Crowley, but whether or not he would like a mustache was a big consideration. Crowley was interrupted from these musings when they reached the bookshop. Gabriel and the other Archangels let themselves in, which instinctively annoyed Crowley because he knew Aziraphale would hate that. His thinking was a little clearer now, but he was no less excited to be face to face with his wonderful, beautiful angel who apparently loved him back and no less excited to pour affection and devotion on said angel. He didn’t fight, though. He didn’t have much fight in him at the moment. He was willing to wait. They were bringing him to Aziraphale, so he would wait. After about a minute, the angels holding him dragged him into the bookshop as well.

He could immediately hear the murmur of voices from the back room, not quite audible.

“Well, that is, you know,” Aziraphale’s voice rose, shrill and nervous, “He is the _Adversary_ , after all, and, I mean, one does, one does _encounter_ the Adversary, as it were, from time to time.” The fear in Aziraphale’s voice made Crowley surge forward protectively, but hands clamped down on his arms and shoulders, one hand clamping over his mouth. There was a little bit of holiness in each grip, which burned, “It’s, it’s, it’s not as if I’ve _sought out_ the Adversary. That, that would be absurd!” Aziraphale was talking about him. He was denying their connection. Yes, good, smart. Crowley wouldn’t lie, it did hurt a little, but he knew that Aziraphale was playing it safe. Aziraphale needed to be safe. Crowley would keep him safe. Crowley heard the deep murmur of Gabriel’s voice, then the dry alto of Uriel’s voice. Crowley was starting to jitter, wanting so badly to go to Aziraphale and wrap his arms around him and take him away from these angels and kiss him sweetly. Aziraphale loved him! He needed to be in Aziraphale’s arms _right now_! “What are you implying?!” Aziraphale’s voice rose, shrill and panicked and Crowley fought the hands holding him, and their touch only grew holier and more painful. It eased when he went still.

“It’s more than obvious, Aziraphale,” Michael’s words were briefly audible before everything went back to a murmur. The murmuring continued for a bit.

“YOU DID WHAT?!” Aziraphale shouted, and for the first time, Crowley’s stomach sank a little.

‘ _He’s just surprised! That’s all!_ ’ Crowley told himself, although those three words had sounded horrified. There was more murmuring.

“Come see for yourself,” Gabriel reentered the front, followed by Aziraphale. Aziraphale froze at the sight of Crowley, eyes wide. Gabriel gestured, and the angels let go of Crowley, who surged forward, almost plowing straight into Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale! Angel!” Crowley said, bursting with excitement, and Aziraphale shrank away from him as he got closer. He was wearing those dumb little reading glasses. He looked so cute in them. Crowley took off his own glasses and put them in his coat, “Angel, I love you so much!” the words came out as exultation, and they were. He’d wanted for so long to say those words, “They told me you love me, and I love you so much, I’ve loved you for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long. I’m so happy!” Crowley couldn’t stop smiling.

“See? You can make him say whatever you want,” Gabriel said, and Crowley wasn’t sure what that meant, so he ignored the Archangel, taking Aziraphale’s cute, round face in his hands, “He’s completely devoted. He’ll obey your every command.”

“Yeah! Whatever you want, angel,” Crowley beamed, still cradling Aziraphale’s face in his hands. Aziraphale was staring up at him in naked terror, “What’s wrong, angel? What can I do? What can I do for you?” he leaned in and tried to kiss Aziraphale, but Aziraphale pulled away.

“I’m! Erm! This!” Aziraphale looked panicked.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. We thought it was a shame for you to have to hang around on Earth all lovelorn for some filthy demon that’s incapable of love, so we put love in him for you. Now he’s bursting with the desire to obey you and make you happy,” Gabriel sounded very pleased with himself. Aziraphale didn’t seem to want to kiss right now, so Crowley settled for nuzzling and kissing his cheek. They could have a good snog later once these idiots were gone.

“Love you, love you, love you, love you,” he whispered, “So much. Love you so much.”

“This is a pretty big favor we’re doing for you, don’t you think?” Gabriel raised his eyebrows, voice holding a warning.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Aziraphale’s voice was tight and fake, and Crowley was kissing his ear now. Aziraphale’s hand was resting on Crowley’s face as if about to push him away, “I, erm, thank you. You’re, you’re so generous,” he shuddered when Crowley bit his earlobe. Crowley was giddy. He was dizzy. He was so happy he could scream. Aziraphale loved him, and they were allowed to be together now. There was nothing standing between them. Crowley lavished attention on Aziraphale’s ear. When all these other idiot angels left, then he’d be able to ask Aziraphale what he wanted and give Aziraphale everything he could ever want and show just how much he loved his angel.

“We are, aren’t we?” Gabriel clapped his hands together. Crowley lost track of what was happening until suddenly the door thudded shut and they were alone. Aziraphale immediately shoved Crowley off.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley was grinning like an idiot, “I’m so happy that you love me back. I’ve loved you for centuries, and I never dreamed you would love me. What do you want me to do, angel? I’ll do anything. Anything you want, my beautiful angel,” Crowley felt drunk with love and joy, “I was so scared you wouldn’t love me, but you do!” Crowley dropped to his knees in front of Aziraphale. He had been afraid before, but he wasn’t afraid now. He’d been fearful before, prideful, scared of rejection. All of that was washed away. Crowley no longer had the ability to hold back what he felt, and it was wonderful. It was wonderful not to be scared or angry at himself or miserable because Aziraphale could never possibly love him. All the love Crowley had ever felt was bursting out of him, “What do you want me to do, angel? I love you so much. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to please you. Tell me how to make you happy. I love you so much, Aziraphale. I’m so happy,” Crowley finally noticed the horrified, pained expression on Aziraphale’s face, and his smile faltered, “Angel? Wh-What’s...what’s wrong?” he hesitated briefly, then the love surged again, “Tell me what’s wrong, angel. I’ll fix it. I’ll make it better. Whatever it is, I’ll make it better. Tell me how I can help. Let me please you. Let me serve you,” Crowley reached out to grab the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat, and Aziraphale stepped back out of reach, “Angel?”

“Get up, Crowley,” his voice was tight and cold.

“What?” Crowley asked, but that had been an order, and he ~~had no choice but to~~ would eagerly and delightedly follow any order Aziraphale gave him, so he stood. He reached out to Aziraphale again, but Aziraphale pulled away, “What’s wrong? Tell me what to do,” Aziraphale shook his head, “I’ll do anything you want, my darling, beautiful angel,” Crowley quivered with the love he felt, “Anything, darling.” Aziraphale looked a bit like he was going to be sick, “I love-”

“No, you don’t,” Aziraphale said, “Stop.” Crowley stopped up short.

“What are you talking about? I love you. More than anything,” Crowley quivered again, all emotional self-control gone, just drowning in love, “So much, I love you so much. Oh angel, I can’t tell you how much I love you. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you love me. I’m so happy you love me,” Crowley beamed.

“I...don’t,” Aziraphale was making a face like he’d eaten a raw onion. Crowley’s smile froze.

“Wh...what are you talking about? Of course, you do,” he said, voice a little shaky, “They...they told me all about it. They told me about how you’ve been in love with me and sad and lonely and pining after me, but don’t worry, you never have to be lonely again,” Crowley’s face lit back up, “I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. If I’d known that you felt that way about me I wouldn’t have let-”

“Stop talking,” the expression of having eaten something distasteful had deepened, “Just, stop talking,” Crowley’s mouth clicked shut and wouldn’t open. Panic began to bubble inside him. He couldn’t speak. How was he going to tell Aziraphale how much he loved him? How was he going to make Aziraphale understand? “You don’t love me, Crowley,” Aziraphale’s expression was cold and bitter and angry. Crowley made a pained noise and shook his head earnestly, “The light they put in you is just making you think you do. I’m sorry they did that to you. Let me take that suppressor off your neck. The light should begin to dissipate once I do,” Aziraphale took a step forward. Crowley immediately reached out to touch him, to try to communicate that he did truly love Aziraphale, that he adored him, but Aziraphale batted his hands away, mouth pinched, “Stop it,” he said, and Crowley dropped his hands, eyes full of horror. Aziraphale’s hands felt electric on his skin as they unhooked the strip of cloth, and as soon as the cloth left Crowley’s neck, he heard a sort of pop inside his head. Nothing else happened except he felt his powers return to him. Crowley immediately lifted his hands and made the words ‘PLEASE AZIRAPHALE, I LOVE YOU’ in lights in the air, surrounded by little floating red hearts, eyes earnest. Aziraphale scoffed, turning away. He almost looked like he was in pain. Crowley changed the words. ‘PLEASE LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU.’

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?” there was a tight fondness in Aziraphale’s voice, and that gave Crowley hope. He reached out, not able to touch Aziraphale, eyes imploring, “Can you really not speak after I’ve told you not to?” Crowley shook his head, and Aziraphale sighed, “Alright, you can speak, but don’t make me regret it.”

“Thank you, Aziraphale, thank you. Please, let me show you how much I love you,” the words came out all at once, “I’ve been desperately in love with you for centuries, Aziraphale. Maybe millennia. It never occurred to me that you might feel the same way about me. This is a dream come true. This is the ultimate dream come-”

“You’re just saying that because you think that’s what I want to hear!”

“I’m not!” Crowley said earnestly.

“Crowley, if you could see yourself, pupils blown, grinning like a drunken fool, you’d know you didn’t mean it either.”

“Why can’t you accept that I love you? You love me, so why not let me love you?”

“I. Don’t. Love. You.” Aziraphale’s eyes were cold, but they blazed.

“...of...of course you do,” Crowley’s smile faltered, “They told me you love me.”

“Who, Heaven? You believe what Heaven tells you now?” Aziraphale snapped, and Crowley’s smile dropped away completely as severe cognitive dissonance set in. Heaven had told him Aziraphale loved him. Fuck what Heaven said. Heaven didn’t know shit. But Heaven had told him that Aziraphale loved him. Fuck what Heaven said. But Heaven had told him- “No, Crowley, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s not your fault. I’m sure they waited until you were completely drunk on light and helpless before they told you that. You had no choice but to believe them in your state,” Aziraphale said more gently.

“But...they...said you love me.”

“They were wrong, Crowley,” Aziraphale took a deep breath, “They saw us spending time together. They saw the Arrangement. They saw the times we went out to eat together, the times we enjoyed one another’s company, and they decided that the only way I could enjoy your company and want to make an Arrangement with you was if I was in love with you. Crowley, you are my dear, _dear_ friend. I suppose I can admit that now. This...this isn’t what I was afraid would happen, and it certainly isn’t the worst thing that could happen, but it’s still a consequence of us interacting with each other. Luckily, I don’t think either Heaven or Hell knows about...about the item I gave you.” Crowley stared uncomprehendingly.

“Am I...Am I going to fast? Is that it? Am I going too fast again?” he asked, and he saw Aziraphale cringe with his whole body.

“No, Crowley, no,” pain and guilt coloured Aziraphale’s voice and were evident on his face.

“Tell me what to do, Aziraphale,” Crowley begged. A small part of him knew that the light was making him irrational, making him push beyond where he’d normally push, making him refuse to see reason, but all he could think about was how much he loved and needed Aziraphale and how long he’d loved and needed Aziraphale, “What can I do to make you love me? I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll say whatever it takes. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll crawl at your feet. Please, angel, please,” Crowley was suddenly desperate, and he went to his knees.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale turned away. Crowley couldn’t grab Aziraphale’s lapels, so he just clasped his hands in front of him.

“Tell me what to do, angel. I’ll do whatever you tell me. Whatever you want, my beautiful, darling angel. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove my love. Whatever it takes to make you love me. Please, angel, please. Please!” he raised his voice.

“Crowley! Get up!” Aziraphale lost his temper, and Crowley stood. He didn’t cry. His eyes didn’t even brim with tears, but he trembled, desperate.

“Please, angel,” he whispered, and it might have been a trick of the light, but it looked like Aziraphale’s eyes were damp. Aziraphale turned his back.

“Follow me,” he said and headed up the stairs to his flat.

  
  


* * *

  
  


All it took was a single order to go to sleep and Crowley dropped unconscious to the sofa. Aziraphale stared at him for a long while until Crowley began to snore very, very softly. Then Aziraphale sat down in his armchair, put his head in his hands, and wept quietly.

Having all four Archangels burst into his shop in the evening was terrifying. Having them start talking about Crowley was even more terrifying. Having them _bring out photographs of him and Crowley together_ was a level of terrifying previously unknown to sentient beings. Then the Archangels had started talking about how obvious it was that he was desperately in love with Crowley, and he’d panicked a bit. Was it really? He’d been head over heels since Crowley had pressed that bag of books into his hand, maybe longer. Was it obvious enough that even _Archangels_ could see it? And if Archangels could see it, could _Crowley_ see it? Was he aware of Aziraphale’s pathetic, pining feelings?

Then they’d told him that they felt sorry for him, that they were going to fix it for him, that they’d fixed that nasty demon up real nice as a present for him. Actually seeing Crowley had been like a punch in the gut. Crowley looked exactly as he had three years ago, but with none of his usual poise. He’d looked deliriously happy, eyes blissed out and pupils stretched so wide that he looked more like a cat than a serpent. Crowley had been so stuffed full of Heavenly love-light that he was visibly glowing (at least to an angel’s eyes). Worst of all were the things he’d said. He’d immediately begun babbling about loving Aziraphale like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough, saying words that Aziraphale had yearned to hear from him for so long.

“ _Demons aren’t capable of love, obviously_ ,” Aziraphale heard Gabriel’s voice in his ears, “ _So we shoved Heavenly Love into him until he’s bursting with it. Now he’s convinced he loves you! He has no choice! It’s a pretty neat trick if I do say so myself._ ”

Every time Crowley desperately declared his love like he’d discorporate if he couldn’t say the words, it was another punch in the face. Everything Aziraphale could ever want, but it wasn’t real. None of it was real. Crowley, at this point in time, most certainly believed he was in love with Aziraphale. Aziraphale didn’t doubt that Crowley believed that, but Gabriel was right. Demons couldn’t love, not the way humans or angels could. Aziraphale had always tried to settle for the fact that Crowley cared for him to the extent of his ability. Crowley liked him, enjoyed his company, cared enough to get him out of trouble, enough to save a bag of books for no reason other than to please Aziraphale. But he could never love, and every word out of his mouth had been a knife in Aziraphale’s chest.

It had hurt to deny his own love, both because he hated to lie and because of the pain and confusion and eventual devastation on Crowley’s face. Poor dear. It wasn’t his fault. None of this was. Aziraphale was fervently loyal to Heaven, but the angels could be rather wretched and thoughtless at times. Aziraphale could only imagine how Crowley had fought them, how scared he’d been. Had he known what they were going to do? Aziraphale hoped not.

Aziraphale watched Crowley sleep through red-rimmed eyes. He was still glowing a bit, but perhaps not as much. He had to find a way to stop Crowley from hating him after this. It would be hard. Once Crowley came back to his full, demonic senses, he’d be angry, betrayed, violated, and rightfully so. They might not talk for decades. Crowley might _never_ talk to him again, which was the most horrid thought of all. Aziraphale felt so helpless, and he allowed himself a small moment of weakness. He let himself smooth down Crowley’s hair as he slept but snatched his hand back when Crowley sighed softly in his sleep at the touch.

“Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale whispered. Hopefully, this would wear off quickly.

* * *

The next morning, as the sun rose, Crowley woke. Aziraphale looked up from his book, watching the demon groan and stretch. Then Crowley jerked around, trying to see Aziraphale.

“Angel!” he gasped. Aziraphale had known from the faint glow still around him that the light hadn’t dissipated yet, but the desperation in Crowley’s voice still made him cringe.

“Good morning, Crowley,” he said. Crowley was trying to sit up, long limbs flailing, eager eyes locked on Aziraphale, pupils starting to expand again. Crowley managed to get upright before freezing, expression dropping slightly. He was remembering being rejected.

“Angel?” Crowley’s voice was so soft and vulnerable and precious, and Aziraphale wanted very much to kiss him, but that was out of the question.

“Are you feeling more yourself?” Aziraphale asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“I’ve never felt more myself,” Crowley’s eyes shone with devotion, “Do you feel better? You were very upset last night? Is there anything I can do?” the queasiness from the previous night was returning as Aziraphale met Crowley’s eyes. This wasn’t Crowley. Crowley was...well, he might not always be poised, but he was at least pretending he was poised. Crowley wasn’t eager and doting, and even when he was being an absolute dear, he didn’t act like this. Crowley’s face fell a little as he watched Aziraphale’s expression, “Why, um, why don’t I make you some tea?” Crowley asked brightly, “I make you a cup of tea, just the way you like it,” he said, and was off the sofa and into the kitchen before Aziraphale could speak. Aziraphale sighed. He was just going to have to wait it out. Sending Crowley out into the streets of London in this state would be irresponsible, so he’d keep Crowley here until he was reasonable again. Aziraphale stared introspectively down at his book without reading it until Crowley reentered the room, carefully holding the cup and saucer. He actually knelt and held it out to Aziraphale like an offering. Aziraphale took it.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said softly, wincing when this made Crowley beam. Oh, he was so handsome. This was going to be the worst kind of torture.

“Anything for you, darling,” Crowley’s smile turned sappy, and Aziraphale looked away, busying himself with the tea. He took a sip, and his eyebrows went up. This...was exactly the way he liked it.

“How did you know how I take my tea?” he asked, eyebrows drawing together.

“Milk, no sugar, right?”

“Yes, but how did you know that? We haven’t had tea since...” Aziraphale’s voice trailed off. The last time he’d actually made tea in front of Crowley was 1954.

“I remember how you take it. I remember everything you like,” Crowley said earnestly. Aziraphale pursed his lips. While that absolutely wasn’t true, it was odd that Crowley remembered that about him.

“Yes, well, thank you. You can, erm,” Aziraphale made a little shooing motion with his hand, and Crowley retreated back to the sofa, eyes still soft. Aziraphale drank his tea in silence, hyper-aware of Crowley’s adoring gaze locked on him. He finished the tea and set the cup and saucer down on the little table beside him, “Now then,” he shifted to sit primly with his hands in his lap, “You’re in no state to be running around London, so you’ll need to stay here until the light dissipates,” he said.

“Whatever you like, angel,” Crowley said immediately, “Whatever makes you happy.” Aziraphale grimaced, “I love you,” Crowley added.

“You _don’t_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale rubbed one eye.

“I _do_ ,” Crowley insisted.

“I know you believe you do, Crowley. I do understand, but you don’t love me.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel, angel,” Crowley said with a hint of irritation. The light inside him pulsed visibly and Crowley’s face smoothed out, expression sweet and docile again, “I didn’t mean that, angel. Say whatever you like,” Crowley sighed, sounding just as blissed out as he had when the angels had first shoved him at Aziraphale. Aziraphale tried not to cringe at the sight of it. It was a good thing. Crowley was showing signs of his actual personality. With a little more time, there wouldn’t be enough light to overpower his mind that way.

“Right,” Aziraphale said, pursing his lips with displeasure.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Just...stop all this. Be you again. That’s what I want,” the pain and stress of the night suddenly gave way for a bone-deep exhaustion and a dull, aching grief he couldn’t put into words.

“I am me, angel,” Crowley’s eyes were clearer again, and Aziraphale could have believed him if he’d let himself, but he couldn’t.

“I need to open up shop soon,” Aziraphale said instead of answering, standing up, “You stay up here while I’m gone. Do whatever you like to entertain yourself, put on whatever records you can find. Just don’t make a mess or a ruckus. Alright?” Crowley looked crestfallen.

“Yes, angel,” he murmured, and it sounded far too much like ‘yes sir’ or ‘yes master’ for Aziraphale’s liking.

“Very well. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Aziraphale couldn’t get out of the flat fast enough.

  
  


* * *

Crowley very nearly pounced on Aziraphale when he returned that evening, babbling how much he’d missed him and loved him. Aziraphale carefully disentangled himself from the demon. He let Crowley make him a cup of tea, then tried to engage him in conversation, hoping for a moment of normality, but it wasn’t the same.

Over his millennia on Earth, Aziraphale had seen and done his best to ease the suffering of more than his share of poor souls wandering the streets, under the thrall of one substance or another, their pleasure fading, eyes crazed in their desperate need for more. Crowley was beginning to look like one of them. Aziraphale had seen more than one human have the love-light of Heaven put into them, seen their delirious behavior, and watched it fade from their bodies. Humans were generally disoriented during the last hours before the light was gone. Crowley wasn’t a human.

To Aziraphale’s knowledge, nothing like this had ever been done to a demon. There was no precedent for this. Gabriel had told him that Crowley had had more light in him than they could fit into fifty humans. Aziraphale assumed this was possible both because demons were of hardier stock than humans (the same stock as angels, although they didn’t like to talk about it) and because of the Emptiness within demons. Angels held within themselves a nearly endless reserve of love-light (real love-light, not the synthetic stuff they’d put in Crowley). It was the Almighty’s Love. When demons fell, that Love was ripped from them, leaving them with a gaping, cavernous Emptiness within them. This meant demons couldn’t love, for only things that are loved by the Almighty are capable of love. Aziraphale could scarcely imagine the amount of light needed to fill the Emptiness within a demon, even with Gabriel’s estimate, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what having that Emptiness felt like, much less what it felt like to have it temporarily filled again. Although synthetic love-light was a weak, cheap, immensely watered-down version of the real thing, Crowley currently had something inside of him that at least very loosely resembled actual love for the first time in 6000 years. No wonder he was giddy, delirious, devoid of any sense or self-control. Aziraphale’s chest ached at the thought as he stared at Crowley’s back. He’d made the demon go to sleep again. Crowley liked to sleep, so it shouldn’t be too much of a chore.

Crowley was feeling love for the first time since he’d fallen, or something resembling it. It suddenly occurred to Aziraphale that this process of having the light fade from him might be like falling all over again, but with the love leaking out of him bit by bit instead of being ripped out all at once. The thought made Aziraphale ill, and for a wild moment, he considered putting the suppressor back on Crowley to preserve the light that was left and save him from returning to that state of Emptiness. Aziraphale gripped the arm of his chair tightly for a moment, then his hands relaxed, and he closed his eyes. No, he would just have to see Crowley through this, keep Crowley safe for the duration, provide what little comfort he could.

He let Crowley wait on him the next morning and tried to pretend he couldn’t see the way Crowley’s hands were shaking, not meeting his gaze because he knew that if he did, he’d see the madness of an addict craving another fix. Aziraphale entertained the idea, briefly, of telling Crowley that he loved him and giving him affection, then when the light was gone he’d say he’d only done it to ease Crowley’s suffering. Alas, that wasn’t an option, not at this point.

Aziraphale moped and pined down in his shop all day, closing up early and just sitting at his desk for a long while, staring at nothing. He didn’t want to go back upstairs and face Crowley again. He didn’t think he could bear it. Aziraphale closed his eyes. He had to go back up there. This was his fault. He hadn’t been discreet enough in meeting with Crowley. He hadn’t hidden his feelings well enough. He’d been sloppy, and Heaven had seen straight through him, and now Crowley was the one paying the price. It was his responsibility to deal with the consequences of his mistakes. This was his burden to bear. He could handle this.

Aziraphale was soon to change his mind when the moment he stepped into his study, Crowley grabbed him and tried to kiss him. Aziraphale only barely managed to dodge this, jerking away and shoving the demon off. He knew for an absolute fact that if Crowley actually kissed him on the mouth, he would break. He would shatter and fall into Crowley’s arms and kiss him back as sweetly and fervently as he’d always dreamed of.

“Crowley!” he raised his voice, shoving the demon back.

“Let me show you. I can be a good boy. I can make you feel good. I can make you feel good,” Crowley’s entire body was shaking. There was no visible glow anymore. He was on the very last of the light. He couldn’t possibly look any more like a crazed addict than he did, “I’ll be so good for you, angel. Let me show you. Let me show you,” Crowley went to his knees and began to unbutton Aziraphale’s trousers, fingers fast and deft despite how hard his hands were shaking. He got the last button undone before Aziraphale’s panicked brain processed what was happening and he yelped, instantly miracling his Effort away entirely on pure instinct, slapping Crowley’s hands away and actually slapping him across the face, hard.

“No! Back! Down! Heel! HEEL!” Aziraphale ended on a shout, and Crowley did jerk back, cowering down on the floor like a dog. Aziraphale was breathing heavily. He turned away and buttoned his trousers back up as quickly as he could with trembling hands. He turned back to find Crowley still cowering in the same position. Crowley whined in his throat, “No, I didn’t mean- get up, get up,” Aziraphale said quickly, helping the demon to his feet. Crowley was still trembling.

“Angel,” he croaked out, then big tears welled up in his eyes and he made a choked sobbing noise as they leaked out, dripping down his cheeks. Aziraphale’s stomach dropped.

“Wait, no, Crowley, don’t-” Aziraphale reached out, then clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He’d prayed it wouldn’t come to this, but it was too late.

He was seeing Crowley cry. Their relationship would never recover from this.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Aziraphale whispered, grief washing over him in waves as the demon began to sob. There was no coming back from this. Crowley’s pride...he’d never speak to Aziraphale again. It had been uncertain before, but there was no denying it now. It was over for them. Honestly, it didn’t matter what he did now, “Shhhh, here, here,” Aziraphale pulled out his own kerchief and reached up and started drying Crowley’s face. Crowley quieted a bit, still crying.

“Angel,” he croaked, “It hurts angel. It hurts,” he sounded like a child. Aziraphale’s heart broke.

“ _Oh, dearest_ ,” the words came out before Aziraphale could stop them, and he reached up to cup Crowley’s face in both hands, “It’s almost over. It won’t hurt much longer.” Crowley grabbed his wrists, gripping them tight enough that it would hurt a human.

“I’m scared, angel. I love you.”

“Shhhh,” Aziraphale wiped the tears away with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have...earlier...I...” Crowley’s shoulders were heaving, “I’m sorry. I went too fast again. I’m sorry.” Aziraphale cringed.

“None of this is your fault,” he said. Crowley’s breathing was speeding up. He was clearly in physical pain, but Aziraphale knew that most of the pain was spiritual.

“Angel, t-tell me, tell me what to do. Tell me what to do,” Crowley begged.

“If I tell you to go to sleep, will you? Will that help?” Aziraphale continued stroking Crowley’s cheekbones and wiping away tears with his thumbs. Crowley nodded, “Alright, my dear. Go lay down on the sofa and go to sleep. That’s an order.” Love and relief flashed over Crowley’s face.

“Thank you. I love you,” he whispered, then stumbled over to the sofa. He collapsed on it and curled into a ball, trembling. After a few seconds, he went still. Aziraphale practically collapsed into his armchair, head dropping into his hands.

‘ _You fool. You absolute fool. Why did you do this? You could have left the suppressor on him and kept him happy and sweet and eager to please. You could have had everything you ever wanted. Instead, you forced Crowley to suffer terribly, broke his heart, and forced him to be totally weak and vulnerable in front of you. You could have both been happy, you wretch,_ ’ a voice hissed at him.

“It wouldn’t have been real,” Aziraphale whispered, “None of this has been real.”

‘ _Except the pain and suffering you caused him_ ,’ the voice said snidely. Aziraphale said nothing. He didn’t really feel like crying. He just felt numb, empty, dead. Crowley was unequivocally going to hate him. The humiliation of all of this would fill Crowley with hatred for Aziraphale. Even if this hadn’t been done by Heaven on Aziraphale’s (unknowing and unwilling) behalf, the fact that Aziraphale had seen Crowley so weak and pathetic and helpless would simply be too much. Aziraphale felt a surge of rage towards Heaven, but he quickly quashed it. This was his fault. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this. It was all over, and it was all his fault.

* * *

  
  


The next morning, Crowley’s back moved steadily up and down under the throw Aziraphale had put over him during the night. He’d started twitching and whimpering a few times in the wee hours of the morning, and Aziraphale had used miracles to soothe him back into deep, dreamless sleep each time. About an hour after dawn, Aziraphale got up and went into the kitchen, fixing himself a cup of tea. When he returned, Crowley was not on the sofa. His heart skipped a beat and he turned his head. Crowley was standing by the fireplace, staring into it, one hand braced against the wall above the mantle. Aziraphale froze. There was a long silence. Aziraphale knew that Crowley knew he was there, but neither of them spoke.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale finally said meekly. Crowley said nothing, not even turning, “Are you...feeling better?”

“If you can call it that,” Aziraphale could hear the sneer in his voice. The words filled Aziraphale with both relief and dread. That was the Crowley he knew so well.

“Oh, well, erm...good,” Aziraphale cleared his throat. He opened his mouth, then closed it, “Are you...alright?”

“What do you think?” Aziraphale cringed.

“Well, I...” he looked down, “I’m sorry, Crowley.”

“Sorry?” the word was soft and dangerous.

“Yes, of, of course I am, Crowley. I wasn’t careful enough and Heaven found out that...about the Arrangement and jumped to conclusions and you paid the price. They did such a horrible thing to you on some twisted idea of what I would want. This was all my fault, and...I’m sorry,” Aziraphale picked at one of his buttons, not brave enough to look up. There was no response, “None of this would have happened if I’d been more careful. Heaven twisted your mind to their liking, treated you like a toy they were gifting to me. I, I can’t even imagine what...it must have been dreadful, being stuffed full of fake love. I...I dare say you won’t want anything to do with me after this, and...I don’t blame you.”

“This wasn’t your fault, angel,” there was no emotion in Crowley’s voice, “You couldn’t have predicted what Heaven would do. This was a bit psychopathic, even for them. It’s not your fault.” Aziraphale lifted his head. Crowley was still staring into the fire. He had his glasses back on but still looked a bit unkempt, “I’m sorry you had to deal with me like that.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. It was my fault and my responsibility to help get you out of that state they’d put you in,” Aziraphale insisted.

“I told you, angel. It’s not your fault.” Crowley still calling him ‘angel’ could give him a little bit of hope for their relationship if he let it, but he didn’t dare.

“Yes, well...I’m still sorry, and I still want you to know that I don’t think any less of you,” Aziraphale said then winced immediately as Crowley slowly turned his head to look at him, “No, wait, that’s...that’s not what I meant to say,” Aziraphale said quickly, “What I _mean_ is I don’t think any differently of you for what happened. You weren’t in control of yourself at all, of any of it. You were completely under the thrall of the light, and nothing about how I see you has changed.”

“Right,” Crowley said, the t clicking sharply off his teeth, and Aziraphale immediately had the sense that he’d said something wrong, although he wasn’t sure what.

“You’re still the Crowley you’ve always been. To me.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Crowley turned away, straightening up.

“Right, I’m, I’m sure you’ll be...you’ll want to be on your way now. You’ve been here a while and I’m sure you have some other important things you’d rather be doing,” Aziraphale hoped it wasn’t obvious that his throat was tightening with emotion.

“Yeah. Big things in the works. Lots to do,” Crowley’s voice was still fairly emotionless as he turned and swayed by Aziraphale, towards the stairs. Crowley snapped his fingers and his appearance was immaculate again. 

“Right, right, of course, erm, jolly good. I’ll just...” Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure where he’d intended that sentence to go. Crowley stopped at the top of the stairs. He turned his head.

“I’ll see you around, angel,” he said. There was something in his voice that Aziraphale couldn’t place, but it didn’t sound angry. Despite his best efforts, a little bit of hope bloomed in Aziraphale’s chest.

“Right. Around, yes,” he managed a very small, weak smile, which Crowley didn’t return.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Crowley said lightly, but Aziraphale heard tension underneath, “I’ll be off,” Crowley turned and went down the stairs. Just as he left, he said something so softly that Aziraphale definitely wasn’t supposed to catch it, “ _Off going too fast_ ,” the words were barely audible, and Aziraphale stared after him. He swallowed, gaze lowering to the floor. It was for the best. His time would be better spent figuring out how to explain to Heaven why he’d basically thrown their ‘gift’ away. This would also give him time to perhaps, if he was lucky, drive these pointless feelings out of himself. It was best that he be cut off from Crowley.

After all, demons couldn’t love.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt here: https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=1634649
> 
> slightly less polished fill here: https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=1828185#cmt1828185
> 
> like I said on the meme, Aziraphale and Crowley don't speak again until Crowley calls about the Antichrist. After this, Crowley immediately throws himself into the M25 project as a distraction, and Aziraphale keeps busy during the AIDS crisis. I imagine that they eventually have a happy ending post-Armageddidn't and finally get their heads out of their asses.
> 
> I hope you guys liked this. It's fun to write some legit angst sometimes.


End file.
